The Fellowship of the Psychology Class
by Reasonably crazy
Summary: This was actually a school assignment for (Three guesses) Psychology! It was co-written with Joan, so it may not be my regular style. Pretty good from what I've heard; Joan and I got MAJOR extra credit. My grade is now an A with 114 in the class!
1. Welcome to Lothlorien

The Fellowship of the Ring now consisted of eight of the original nine members: Gimli the dwarf, Legolas the elf, the men Aragorn and Boromir, and of course the four hobbits, Merry, Pippin, Frodo, and Sam. All that was missing was the Wizard, Gandalf, who had recently fallen into a deep crevasse in the Mines of Moria. All nine members had several issues apiece, most mental, and many were apparent as the remaining number wandered into the, as Legolas called it, "pretty pretty forest."

"Woe is me," Sighed Frodo. "This censored RING IS TOO censored censored HEAVY!"

"His mood swings are driving me nuts!" Legolas screeched, at the breaking point. His eye twitched as evidence.

"He's going through a lot," Sam whined for Frodo, as Frodo was too busy seizing to whine for himself.

Pippin clutched his head in agony. "STOP SHOUTING! Ow.... My head...."

Boromir checked his belt. "Hey, who took my ale?"

Pippin, his aching head put on the back burner, inched slowly behind Gimli.

"Where is it you, you unbalanced Halfling?!"

Pippin's eyes crossed. "Nowhere. Stop moving! Stay in one place. How do you split in half like that?"

"No more drink for you, you dirty little-"

"Whoa! Peace, dude, peace." Merry, breathing in another plume of his questionable "pipe weed," plunged a peace sign between the two. "Start focusing on more important things, like saving the trees. STOP GLOBAL WARMING!!!"

Gimli glared at those talking, as they were causing an uncomfortable headache to surface. "Mrs. Greenleaf, shut them up."

"I'm not a woman," Legolas Greenleaf whimpered.

"I don't know," Gimli goaded. "Those pecs look a bit large, elfie."

Legolas defensively clapped his hands to his chest. "Are not!"

Aragorn, who had been until recently sulking silently behind the rest, quietly informed the group of his disapproval of the events. "IF YOU DON'T ALL SHUT YOUR BLOODY MOUTHS RIGHT NOW I'LL CUT OUT YOUR TONGUES AND SHOVE THEM UP YOUR NOSTRILS!!!"

The company proceeded in silence. This didn't last as long as it could have, but at least the effort was made.

"You're breathing too loud," Legolas whispered to Gimli.

"I breathe just fine!"

"You sound impassioned. This is, of course, beyond the realm of possibility."

"**You **shut up."

"**You** stop breathing."

"DON'T YOU DARE GIMLI!"

As one, the company stopped and turned to stare at Merry.

"Don't you dare stop breathing, Gimli," Merry continued harshly. "The trees need your hot air!"

"And just what are you implying, you little-"

Aragorn blinked meaningfully.

The company proceeded in silence.

"You're still breathing too loud," Legolas hissed.

"Am not."

Randomly, a newcomer, an elf like Legolas, fell out of a tree from above them, gracefully embedding his nose into the leaf-strewn soil.

"That's a nine-pointer," Pippin slurred.

The elf popped up, trying (and failing) to pass it off as intentional. He fumbled an arrow out and pointed the wrong end of it at Gimli.

"A dwarf breathes so loudly I could have shot him in really dim lighting," he pronounced.

"Told ya."

"Shut up, woman."

"I'm NOT..." Legolas started uncertainly. Finally, overcome with constant abuse, he curled into a ball on the ground, rocking back and forth and questioning his masculinity.

"I bet you're a virgin, too," Gimli taunted.

"Okay, and we're done," Boromir cut in before Legolas went well beyond the deep end.

The new elf gestured threateningly with the arrow's feathers. "All of you, with me. NOW. Any questions?"

"Why are you shaking like that?"

"That's YOU, Pippin."

"Oh. Right. MWEhehehehehehehehehehehehehehehe-" There was a suspiciously loud smacking sound, followed by a sudden silence.

"Woe is me," Frodo whined. "WHO THE MORDOR ARE YOU???"

"I am Tom-Etized, employee of the Apothecary Galadriel, who is the owner of the En san it tee Asi lum. It's elvish, I swear. On the name of Prozac."

The Fellowship members glanced at each other, not entirely sure of the newcomer's sanity; but then again, they weren't sure of their own. And though the elf's ineptitude with the bow was apparent and he seemed to possess no real threat, the company agreed that it was probably best to go with him. So the Ring bearer and his companions followed Tom Etized to the strange elven Asi lum.


	2. The Expiriment Begins

"Here, sit yourselves round," Tom ordered. They had been walking for about half an hour and were in a decent-sized clearing.

The Fellowship blinked and stared, not moving.

"I said SIT IN AN ERU-CURSED CIRCLE!!!"

Startled by the Aragorn-like outburst, they sat as Tom departed. They waited.

And waited.

For a very.

Long.

Time.

"I told you not to breathe!"

"Well, excuse me," Gimli snarled. "What's with that look you're giving me? Do you need some Midol, she-elf?"

"Shut it!" Legolas screeched several octaves above normal.

Frodo, once again, started ranting on his own. "Stupid Gandalf!" he shouted. "Stupid Balrog! And stupid censored censored RING!!! Gandalf died,-"

Sam, sensing an obscenity that shouldn't exist yet, quickly replaced the word before Frodo could get it out. "Darn-diddly- do da," he finished.

"Oh dear, somebody died?" A new voice sighed. "Somebody close to you?"

"Yes, somebody died," Frodo snarled. "But he's not close to me anymore, now is he?"

"And how does that make you _feel_?" The new voice continued.

"Freakin'-"

"Angry," Sam finished.

"Sad," sniffled Legolas.

"Relieved," Pippin volunteered.

"Safe," Boromir added.

"Bi-polar," Aragorn muttered.

The new arrival nodded, silently making notes on a leaf. "mm-hmm, okay," She said to nobody in particular. "You, sir," She said, turning to Aragorn, "Are in denial."

"Am NOT!"

"Now YOU," she fixed Boromir with a piercing stare. "What are you hiding?"

Boromir shifted his weight. "NOTHING!" he screamed violently, then turned and ran away.

"Shorty," the lady continued, seeming unperturbed, "No, you, the drunk one, Pippin."

"How do you know my name?!" Pippin demanded, hiccupping.

She shrugged. "I just do. You have been at least verbally abused by Gandalf-"

"Amen," Pippin cut in.

"-And you're depressed. Drinking isn't helping."

Pippin seemed to attempt to think, but the pain was too great. "Would that explain why I'm drawn to sharp pointy objects?"

The tall elf-woman paused. "We'll talk. As for you, milady-"

"**I'M NOT A LADY**! I'M NOT I'M NOT I'M NOT I'M NOT I'M NOT I'm not I'm not I'm not I'm not I'm not...." Legolas gradually curled back into a ball, rocking back and forth.

"Wow." The woman was scribbling furiously on her leaf, flipping it over for more room on the back. "You have more problems than I thought."

"SOMEbody's PMSing..." Gimli said innocently.

"And YOU, blue-eyes," Galadriel directed her attention to Frodo. "Your rage represents your primal instincts and subconscious feelings. You're not as angry at the loss of your friend as you are at your missed opportunity to lie with him."

"Eeeeewwww..." Everyone else said at once. Gimli sidestepped away from Frodo.

"I'm all for it man," Merry said diplomatically, "It's your life. But... he was OLD, man."

"WHAT?!" Frodo screeched in a manner eerily reminiscent of Legolas. "That is just... just... NO! BAD! BAD ELF!"

Legolas whimpered. "Not you," Sam whispered comfortingly.

The woman nodded scribbling more notes. "Blame Freud, not me." She scrawled in a signature at the bottom and handed the wilted leaf to Tom Etized, who tucked it into a tree that had been carved to act as a filing cabinet.

"Okay. I am Galadriel, Apothecary, Psychiatrist, Psychologist, and Ventriloquist. Fear not, the first time is free. Services available at all major forests nation-wide."

"Um, hi," was the general response, except for Frodo's who instead sighed; "woe is me."

"First the bad news," Galadriel said. "You all have issues."

"Right on, right on," Merry agreed loudly. "We all have issues! It's the Man! The Man! He's oppressing us!"

"Yes, but how does that make you _feel?_"

There was a pause.

"Woe is me," Frodo moaned.

"Right then," Galadriel said, suddenly business-like. "Medication."

"Medication, medication, medication, medication," Pippin chanted.

Galadriel pulled Aragorn and Tom Etized aside. "This is the strangest group we've had in a while."

"What do you expect?" Aragorn snapped. "We're a bunch of males, traveling around together for weeks, constantly being chased by perils, with no feminine contact." He paused. "Legolas doesn't count."

"Point," Galadriel ceded. "Right. We're going to give everyone except you, Aragorn, meds. Some will get empty sugar pills, others won't. You need to follow them around and take notes." She shoved a bush into his hands.

"Should we allow them to interact?" Tom asked.

"We'd better," said Galadriel after a moment's thought. "Remember what happened to Sméagol."

They all turned and looked at the small, wiry, hairless creature that had been Galadriel's patient.

"Mwehehehehehehehehehe-" He smacked himself. "Ow! Stop that! Ow! Why'd you do that? **Because you deserved it, stupid!** I did not! You're so mean! **Oh, shut up!"** He smacked himself again. "Ow! That hurt!"

"Actually, he's not too different from Pippin," Aragorn commented.

"That's what my meds are for," Galadriel said lightly. She shoved him towards his new patients.

"But, who gets what?" Aragorn asked. "Who gets the placebo, and who gets the real meds?"

"I can't tell you," Galadriel told him. "It's called a double-blind study."

"Doesn't sound too trustworthy," Aragorn muttered.

"But it is," Galadriel smiled.


	3. Elven Wisdom

* * *

Thanks for all the reviews, you awesome people! May the sugar plum faeries bless your life!

* * *

Tom tapped Galadriel on the shoulder. "What is your hypothesis, milady?"

Galadriel considered. "I think Frodo will start acting very hyper, happy, and careless. His angst will be gone and he will be nearly as annoying as Pippin."

Tom raised his eyebrow skeptically. "That would indeed be impressive. What did you give him, a placebo or-"

Galadriel put a finger to her lips and gestured at Aragorn, who was chasing after Merry. The Hobbit was told the pill he was given would help him get over his pipe weed, but now Merry was frantically searching for a new addiction to take its place.

Tom sighed, distressed. "Milady, I hate to undermine you..."

"Then don't." The Elven lady began walking breezily away.

"Milady," Tom persisted, following after. Galadriel uttered a none-too graceful snort of annoyance as Tom continued. "I believe that once again, you have screwed things up."

Galadriel turned, and if looks had possessed the ability, Tom Etized would have been a very very very dead elf.

"**I**. _I _screwed up," Tom corrected quickly. Galadriel, mollified, moved on, causing Tom to start clumsily after her again. "For one thing, most psychologists, when they do experiments, all treat the same malady."

"We are clearly not 'most psychologists,' now are we?"

"N- No. Milady, you're missing the point."

"Maybe I don't like points. They're pointy and painful."

There was a lengthy and awkward pause.

"... Milady-"

"Oh, come ON, Tom. Humor me!"

"... So there was this elf and a dwarf. The elf walked into a bar. The dwarf walked under it!" Galadriel graced him with a steely stare. "Sorry, Gimli put me up to it."

"Anyway, Tom," Galadriel continued, shoving the awkward experience far (far far far) behind them, "what exactly is your problem with all of this?"

Tom sighed and came to a halt, and for the first time in Lorien history, Galadriel stopped to accommodate somebody else.

Tom blinked in surprise. "You... you stopped. You DO care!!!" He threw his arm around her in what passed as a hug but looked more like ... well, it defied adjectives (no, really.)

Galadriel was a cool, composed elf. She had never in her excruciatingly long career lost control. Until today. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING? Dear Eru, if my hair is all mussy after this there will be MORDOR TO PAY, you spoony elf!"

Finally, Galadriel was able to pry Tom off of her. "Please _attempt_ to stay on topic, Tom," Galadriel snapped, pulling a comb from her sleeve and raking it through her hair.

"Erm, yes. Sorry about that." Tom also pulled out a comb and treated his hair likewise. "What I'm trying to say is, there are too many variables. No two of the Fellowship have the same issues, and whether they have a placebo or not doesn't really matter. We are not following the scientific method!"

Galadriel attempted to fit in some kind of retort, but Tom cut her off. "There is no real experimental group since no two are alike, and therefore there is no control group, either. I think this experiment, like all the others, shall end up null and void."

Galadriel frowned, not happy at all with what she was hearing.

"I have a question for you," Tom said. Galadriel looked up at him. "What method are we using?"

Galadriel's frown deepened, showing her lack of understanding.

"Are we using Naturalistic Observation? No, we're interacting with the subjects. What about and interview? Not that either. How about a Case Study? A test? Longitudinal Study? Cross-Section? How about a Lab study, or a field study? A survey, perhaps? What is your _plan_, milady?"

"Well," Galadriel started slowly, "I had intended for them to start observation here, and then have Aragorn continue to study them as the quest continued."

Tom shook his head. "For someone who's been around since the dawn of time, you don't seem to understand psychology."

"Call it senility," Galadriel grumbled unhappily.

"You plan has several holes," Tom said as delicately as possible. "That would be a blend of a lab study and a field study. Not even a field study; none of them are in natural conditions. You're not taking into account the stress they're all under as they're fleeing evil by running towards evil. How do we know how long they'll be gone? Who knows if they'll even survive? What if they get split up? What if the researcher dies, or worse, becomes king of Gondor? There are far too many variables for a proper study, milady."

Galadriel was well over 3000 years old. She didn't like this young upstart, who was a meager 950 years old, telling her she was wrong. She didn't like it at all. But that meant nothing. She could gracefully admit she was wrong.

"Fine," She growled, the thundercloud above her head rumbling dangerously. "Let's call the whole thing off, then."

Tom, not really knowing what to say, bowed his head towards her as if it had been her idea to begin with.


	4. And so it ends With good reason

The two elves were greeted with a very interesting sight as they entered the clearing where they had last left the Fellowship. Frodo was hanging upside-down from a high tree branch and having an animated conversation with a leaf. Pippin had somehow acquired several elven swords, which he was juggling haphazardly but with no minimal amount of skill. Merry, having found nothing else to become addicted to in place of his pipe, had instead developed a dependency on the pills themselves. ("Good thing I gave him a placebo," Galadriel whispered to Tom.)

Sam, however, seemed worse off than when he had arrived. At an appearance of a small hairy mammal, he clung suddenly to Merry about the legs and shouted "Squirrel!" Merry promptly fell over into Pippin, whose swords went flying through the air. One narrowly avoided Pippin himself, who squeaked loudly. "SQUIRREL!" shouted Sam, clinging tightly to Merry again.

As for Legolas, he was wearing one of Galadriel's dresses, which had apparently been forced onto him by Gimli. Legolas was denying his femininity loudly, pointing out that the dress had far too much room in the chest. He was standing tall now and there was no quaver to his voice as he shouted that he was male.

"What did you give him?" Tom Etized asked.

Galadriel shrugged in an off-handed manner. "Viagra."

Gimli, when he noticed that Galadriel had entered the clearing, dropped his jaw. "My sweet lady!" he said in awe, falling to his knees before her. "Never before have I seen such beauty!"

To say Tom was surprised would have been a sickening understatement. "What's with HIM?"

Galadriel handed Tom the leaf she had taken notes on.

_"Gimli the dwarf_," it read, "_A disgusting, racist, womanizing... dwarf. Needs to learn respect. Give special meds."_

"Is this legal?" Tom asked.

Galadriel shrugged. "Don't ask, don't tell."

Aragorn staggered up to her, covered in cuts, bruises, scrapes, and tattered clothing. "I quit," he gasped. "Keeping up with all of them is too much. Here's your bush." It fell to the ground. Aragorn shortly followed suit.

"Thank you," Galadriel said sweetly, "but I came to say never mind. We're calling the experiment off."

Aragorn's head came part-way off the ground. "You're kidding. I did all that for nothing? NOTHING?" He looked ready to kill, once his energy returned.

"Oh no, not for nothing," Galadriel soothed. "I'll put in a good word to Elrond about you. I am Arwen's grandmother, remember."

Aragorn pondered this. "Alright then." His head dropped back down.

"Now we need to debrief you," Tom announced. He nudged Galadriel.

"Right. Okay. Um, Sam, you got a sugar pill, so whatever you're high off of, it didn't come from me."

Sam raised his eyebrows. "Really? Oh." He sheepishly let go of Merry.

"Merry, you got sugar pills too. I never knew they were addictive."

Merry blinked and fumbled about for his pipe.

"Frodo, get down from the tree." Frodo complied by falling out of it. "Um, yes, good job. You were given some rather strong anti-depressants. And they seemed to work."

Frodo nodded. "My friend leafy agrees," he announced, holding up a battered leaf.

Galadriel raised her eyebrows. "Pippin, you were given a mild anti-depressant. It didn't seem to cure your attachment to sharp pointy objects, though."

Pippin shook his head and tried to pull one of his swords from a nearby tree. "YOU STABBED A DEFENSELESS TREE!" Merry shouted accusingly.

"Now as for you Gimli, I gave you... well, actually, I can't pronounce it..." Galadriel handed the dwarf a leaf with the prescription on it.

Gimli studied it for a few moments. "Is this legal?"

Galadriel ignored him. "Well, as Gimli's pill's effect will wear off soon, I'm going to send you off before it does. Here, have some gifts."

Galadriel gave them each a lovely and valuable present which can be viewed in the Extended Edition of this story, coming out in a year. (cough).

And so the tired Fellowship continued on their quest, which would contain many more silly events as long as students are able to twist school assignments into fanfiction for their own personal amusement.

THE END.

(Finally. How many days ago was this due?)

(A/N- this was a 5 point assignment.  Joan and I got 500 percent on it!  :p  I got to skip the next 5 assignments, and I still have a 97 percent in the class!)


End file.
